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Calypso didn’t know how to handle defeat, it was a well known fact, when she woke up in the royal palace with the side of her face burning it took a while to recall the events of the previous battle and piece together how it had ended: for days she and her opponent both refused to give up, ignoring the pain, the blood and everything else besides the fight until, without her even noticing, the world faded to black before her eyes. She had lost. She should have been dead, and perhaps she would have accepted death more easily than her clear failure, but if she was in fact not dead then she would pick up her sword to challenge the demigod again and win, claiming her place as the new goddess once and for all.
«Fool tarnished…»
Things wouldn’t go as planned, of course, when she charged at the Omen King she was not met with a blade as expected but instead she was held down by the monarch, his golden eye piercing through her very being, once she stopped trying to attack him and agreed to listen to him he finally let her go.
When she accepted his proposition she didn’t actually believe that he would keep is promise, after all she had come to expect betrayal and he didn’t look like he had any intentions of stepping down from the throne but still she made a deal with him and kept her part of it while also preparing to turn on him if he wouldn’t do the same. There were fights, not at all unexpected since neither of them had exactly an agreeable personality, but there was also understanding and even care, an affection that they dared not speak of out loud.
Over time Calypso went from a graceless tarnished to being Morgott’s enchanted blade, his most trusted knight, and once the Elden Ring was repaired Morgott kept his word, placing the sorceress on Queen Marika’s throne as the Elden Lord but just as she predicted he wouldn’t step down as king, thus needing to officialise their united rule.
«My King, must you absolutely wear the veil during the ceremony?» she asked, tracing soft lines over his features and running her fingers through his hair, the omen not yet fully accustomed to a similar demonstration of affection, incapable to believe that someone could ever cherish his cursed traits as she did. For days she had been requesting that he not wear the veil so that all could see their monarch as she saw him, of course he knew how that would spark a revolt in the capital, he chuckled in reply to his soon to be consort.
«Wouldst thou see me slain perhaps?» the phrase had Calypso rise from her comfortable place in his arms in protest, the thought of him being harmed hurting her like a knife planted in her chest, it hurt even more knowing that he was right, that an omen king would never be accepted, but at the same time she couldn’t help but feel incredibly privileged to be able to cast her gaze upon his true form.
Right now before her there was no Veiled Monarch, no Fell Omen or Grace Given, there was only Morgott as she liked him best: softer, after he had finally allowed himself to relax in her presence no longer keeping his guard up. After all she had also lowered hers for him, she made her way towards him slowly, like a shadow, embracing and comforting him, she had tested the waters little by little, tiptoed around him and before he knew it he had allowed her to get closer and closer. It was always her, holding his hands in hers, resting her head on his shoulder but he wouldn’t dare, cursed, impure, he could only look at her longingly and hide behind formalities, even now as she stood near him mere hours away from becoming his queen consort, as he allowed her fingers to gently detangle his hair and caress his face he still feared that his curse would seep through her soft skin.
Calypso cared not about it, nor about the opinion of the Golden Order, but she dropped the argument, stopped insisting about the veil and instead laid with him in comfortable silence, her figure appearing even smaller without her armor besides that of the omen, it wasn’t long before they both fell to a slumber cradling each other in a soft embrace. For one night the dreams of the monarch were not the home of horrors and nightmares, he rested peacefully as if the sorceress had cast a spell to banish the darkness from his mind.
The following morning when he awoke he still held the woman in his arms, a wave of guilt washing through him: it was wrong, they were not even wed yet. Calypso was still asleep, snoring softly, surrounded by the halo of her stormy black hair, he tucked her in the sheets and gently grazed a finger on the scarred skin that adorned her cheek. His fault. Every time he set his eyes on her face he regretted it, wishing he could go back and stop himself from ever hurting the tarnished he held so dear, of course he did not know back then what she would become to him later on, she was just another foul tarnished emboldened by the flame of ambition, a flame that he was to extinguish just like he did countless times before, yet she proved her flame to be burning too bright and too raging even for him, in that seemingly infinite battle he began to admire her too much to let her die.
When the sorceress finally woke up the first thing she noticed was the huge empty space left by the omen but she didn’t give herself time to feel sad about his absence, there was too much to do before the ceremony, mostly concerning her appearance. She absolutely refused to wear anything that was not dark blue, she went to pick up the dress she had made by the seamster, not too worried of the monarch’s complaints about it being too revealing, during their time knowing each other he had come to accept the fact that the soon to be queen’s mind was not easily changed, she agreed however to wear golden jewellery over the dress as an attempt to cover her cleavage.
During the ceremony Calypso couldn’t bring herself to be happy, the city of Leyndell acclaimed her and the Veiled Monarch, a false idol that was not her king, she tried time and time again to peek over the veil, to catch a glimpse of Morgott but the illusion left no trace of the omen to be seen, when he looked at her he could see in her gaze the sadness that she was trying to hide, it sent a sharp pain through his heart, the fact that it was necessary not making it any easier for either of them. The crowd cheered once the new Elden Lord was finally crowned and wed to the King of Leyndell, Calypso moved closer to the veiled figure, in his projected eyes she couldn’t even remotely recognise the glow of Morgott’s golden one, her lips touched those of a false monarch she had no love for in a kiss full of sadness and longing, the first kiss they ever shared and it was but an illusion, a mockery meant to fool the kingdom, to hide the Omen King from them, the one that Calypso swore her loyalty to, the one who would cause a riot if he were to be seen, the crowd cheered at the seemingly sweet moment in complete unawareness.
It took an unbearable amount of time for the guests to start leaving the palace, for what seemed like an eternity the two sovereigns were forced to greet nobles, exchanging futile and shallow conversations made only barely tolerable for the sorceress by the exquisite wines that were being served, for the whole time she kept up the facade arm in arm with the illusion that to everyone else was her consort, sharing foods, drinks and dances with him in a picture of pure happiness that all would share but the two of them. Morgott looked at his queen in the flowing dark blue dress they had squabbled so much over, adorned in gold, her raven locks twirling around her as he held her yet her golden eyes were tinted with sadness, making his heart ache.
Once the palace was left finally empty the two could finally retire in private where the first thing Calypso did was take the veil off of her consort, revealing his omen nature, and cast it aside, the hint of a genuine smile appearing on her lips as she looked at him.
«I have missed you, my King.» she said, tracing his real features with her fingertips just as she did the evening before, the omen took her hand in his, placing a gentle kiss on her knuckles as her heart swelled, he hesitated for a while, unsure of what to do now that they were alone at last. He wished to hold her, keep her close like a precious treasure, he wished to cherish her and cover her with kisses, only held back from his impure nature, not wishing her to be tainted by him, he stepped back creating some distance between them before turning.
«No, thou shall not be stained by my curse.»
Calypso’s own curse had always been her stubbornness, she closed the distance separating her from the omen and softly placed her arms around him, Morgott remained silent allowing her to hold him, melting under her touch, when he found the heart to face her he was met by her loving gaze.
«Show me thy curse, let me welcome it, as part of thee.»
Was that truly what the sorceress wanted? She already had everything that she was after, she wielded the Elden Ring, she ruled as queen and was revered as a goddess, was that not enough? Why would she want to be cursed with him? Morgott did not utter those questions but nonetheless he got a reply from the woman, as if she had been reading his mind the entire time, in the form of a kiss pressed against his lips, a kiss no longer false and filled with sadness but one that spoke of love and desire, one that tasted sweet, one that he had longed for for way longer than he would ever admit, he abandoned himself to it completely finally holding his queen close, closer than he ever did, as Calypso felt completely at peace, safe not in her armor but in the hands of the Fell Omen.